


The Needle in the Hay

by GrumpyQueer



Category: Ripper Street
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heroin, Love, M/M, ripper street - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9208982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyQueer/pseuds/GrumpyQueer
Summary: CONTAINS S5 SPOILERS.***I wrote this as an AU where Jackson remains working for H-Division at the request of Abberline, using his services/brilliant medical mind to 'dismiss' him from his charges. However, Jackson finds himself struggling to care for his son as he deals with the heartbreaking loss of his wife, doing whatever he can to get from day to day, but ultimately finding love and support in his few true friends.





	

A single drop of blood trickled down Jackson’s bruised, pock-marked arm. Gently releasing the tourniquet, he moaned loudly as his body sunk, quickly falling backwards and surrendering himself to the rushing wave which took its hold, pulling him down into the twisting darkness. And within seconds, profuse amounts of sweat had gathered upon his temple and drenched his back, the hot, dewy beads of perspiration cascading down his clammy skin as he swayed back and forth on the floor, muttering her name to himself, over and over.

‘ _Susan… Susan… Susan… Susan._ ’  

Her image flashed in front of him upon each repetition, with her deep blue eyes staring into his disembodied soul, her blonde curls hanging down by her rouged cheeks, and that playful smile across her face: the one which she seemingly reserved only for his eyes.

Convinced it was her spirit, he reached out his hand to touch her apparition, just as he began to feel her warm palm upon his shoulder, her thumb caressing him in comfort until he looked up, in his haze, and saw nothing there but the blurred atoms in the air.

Though, her calm whisper echoed around him still, just as her visual vanished from his consciousness. Now, he felt her soft, hot breath on the back of his neck, in time with each consonant she spoke.

‘ _Join me._ ’ She said, her voice quiet and calm.

‘ _Join me, my love_ …’

Clawing his hand up towards the table, Jackson nodded groggily as if to agree to her request, grabbing for his syringe and another vial. However, in his sedated stupor, he knocked the vial straight off the table’s edge, smashing it into shards, the clear contents and glass splashing across the floor. Grunting in frustration, he then rolled himself slowly back down on the arch of his spine until clunking his skull on the ground and hiding his sunken, sickly eyes in his hands.

‘ _I’m coming darlin_ ’, he slurred, his breathing laborious and slow.

‘ _Soon... I’ll be coming._ ’

As he then waited for the heaviness to leave his lungs and limbs, he lay staring up and out the window at the bright morning sun, the faint sound of birds chirping in the distance and reverberating around him as he faded in and out of consciousness, his blood feeling as thick and sweet as syrup.  


*******  
  
  
Staggering to the door of his bedsit, Jackson quickly peered at his reflection in the mirror by his coat-stand, leaning in and pulling at the darkened skin underneath his eyes to further examine his state. Realising they were markedly more bloodshot and sunken than he thought, he then slapped himself about his gaunt face to urge himself to rouse, before taking his hat from the hook, crookedly placing it on his head, and slipping out the door.

Still feeling rather unsteady, he forced himself to focus on his steps as he came to the stairwell, clinging to the hand-rail to support his buckling knees and giddy muscles.

When he soon reached the ground floor, he then quickened his pace a little once he stabilised on the solid ground, heading out on to the sooty, stinking street and turning to head to down to H-Division.

However, before he got very far – and practically at his doorstep – he spotted a man donning a bowler hat, leaning on the building’s wall and looking straight at him. 

‘Reid…’ Jackson nodded, turning to face him yet blatantly avoiding eye contact.

Examining all the conspicuous signs upon his friend, a sympathetic look immediately overtook Edmund’s face as he shook his head.

‘Jackson, you cannot keep doing this’, he said, eyes full of concern.

‘Doin’ what?’ Jackson shrugged his shoulders innocently.

‘Don’t be absurd, man. You look as though you have just risen from the dead.’

‘And what if I have? Surely what I do on my watch is my business, ain’t it? Or has my surgical work been lettin’ you down, Inspector?’ He asked through slightly gritted teeth.

‘Not yet, Jackson. But this…’ Edmund raised his hand, pointing at him and then signalling to their surroundings.

‘This bouncing your son around Whitechapel to each of us to babysit for you as you stupefy yourself each day… do you really think continuing to do so is wise? It has been many months, now.’

Lifting up his hat, Jackson scratched his sweaty head slowly and then looked at Edmund with a defeated expression, his eyes hollow and distant, as if someone had chipped away his soul. 

‘What d’ya want me to say? I’m mourning the goddamn love of my life, Reid. I’m just trying to float through this as best I can.’

‘Yes, but at what cost for your son?’

Turning and then looking off down the street, Jackson raised his chest in a laborious sigh, shaking his head as he gazed into the distance.

‘Why were you waiting for me out front?’ He then asked, deflecting.

‘Truthfully, Captain?’

‘Yes, of course I want the damn truth, Reid! What else would I want?’

‘Well…’ Edmund began, arching his shoulders down to lean in and look his friend in the eyes.

‘I am fearful that one morning you will not rouse for work, and that I shall be forced to kick down your door and find you, up there, covered in your vomit, unresponsive and gone from this place.’

‘Gone from _this_ place _?’_ Jackson began to chuckle a little, raising a sarcastic smile.

‘Like that’d be a bad thing? _Christ_ , Reid. This place is a curse, a hell hole… don’t you see it?!’

Jackson then moved in close, surprising Edmund as he abruptly grabbed him by the collar and tried to shake him, his muscles, however, ultimately still too weak to expel much force.

‘I don’t want your stinkin’, shit-kickin’ help, do you understand me, you sanctimonious prick? And I sure don’t need you waiting down here for me every morning to hold my goddamn hand!’

Pausing for a second while their faces were still near, Jackson saw the immediate hurt in Edmund’s eyes and felt a pang in the pit of his stomach, himself, as he realised the harshness of his words. Still, he promptly threw his hands down in pride, turning to swagger off on his own, but only took a few steps before everything began to spin into black, hitting his head on the cobblestones as he suddenly collapsed.  

And a mere blink later, when he opened his eyes, he found Edmund kneeling down next to him, holding him over on his side and wiping the vomit from his mouth as he yelled in a panic for more help.

‘Captain, can you hear me? Captain?’ Edmund asked urgently, placing his coat under Jackson’s head to keep it off the ground.

‘Yeah, Reid... I hear ya, brother.’

 

*******

 

Jackson had slept for several hours after the doctor had left, weightlessly breezing in and out of consciousness all afternoon and occasionally smirking back at the tall silhouette who appeared at the doorway to check on him every half hour, like clockwork.

Surprisingly, it was his growling, ravenous stomach which finally roused him, despite the nausea and vomiting from earlier in the day. Of course, the delicious smell of a roast dinner which wafted through the house had certainly helped. Though, still feeling weak and heavy, he decided to close his eyes and rest some more until instructed otherwise.

‘Jackson… _Jackson_ perhaps you should eat now.’ Edmund spoke quietly, gently nudging at his shoulder a few blurred moments later.

‘Ah, what time is it Reid?’ He asked as he lifted himself up, his movements wobbly.

‘It is eight o’clock. I am sorry to disturb you, but the doctor insisted you eat, even if you have no appetite.’

‘Oddly enough, I’m starvin'.’

‘Good, good! Come… do you need assistance getting yourself upright?’

‘Well, let’s see, shall we?’ He smirked, slowing bringing himself to his feet before Edmund had a chance to be of much help.

‘Still a little hazy, but nuthin’ compared to before. I’ll be right, Reid.’

Jackson then walked, slow and steady, into the dining room as Edmund trailed right behind him, watching him carefully in case he took another unexpected fall.

He then brought himself up to the dining table, smiling down at the abundance of roast meat, vegetables, and fresh bread rolls and butter. 

‘Jesus, you sure put on a spread, didn’t ya?’

‘If you are to get better, Captain, you must eat!’

‘Well no shit, Reid, but this could feed a whole family!’

‘Actually, I…’ Edmund began to clutch at his lapels nervously.

‘I, uh, I hope you do not mind, but I have also made some extra to deliver to Miss Morton and Connor tomorrow.’

‘Oh… yeah?’ Jackson looked up at him, raising both of his eyebrows.

‘Indeed. She popped in this afternoon whilst you were sleeping, and is quite happy to mind Connor as you rest here for a few days, but I thought I would deliver her some food to make it somewhat easier.’

An awkward pause hung between them for a moment, until Jackson smiled a crooked smile and broke the silence.

‘Right, of course, and if she pops in again, make sure to give her my thanks, will ya?’  

‘Certainly.’ Edmund nodded.

‘That women never did like to cook!’

‘No…' He then smirked. 

'I have noticed. Nevertheless, sit, Captain! Eat!’

The two of them then sat themselves down, and begun to fill their plates. 

But when noticing Edmund pour himself a glass of red wine to accompany his dinner, Jackson instinctively outstretched his hand to take the bottle from him after he had finished pouring, unsatisfied with his glass of lemonade. 

‘Uh… _no_ , I don’t think so, Jackson.’ Edmund grinned, shaking his head as he yanked the bottle back out of his Jackson’s eager hands.

‘You are lucky to still be sound after the day you have just endured. No alcohol for a little while, I’m afraid. Doctor’s orders.’

‘Christ. OK well, what about a bottle of ale?’

Edmund then looked at him incredulously, his fork paused midway to his mouth, a pea falling off and rolling to the floor. 

‘ _No_ alcohol, Captain. _None._ ’

‘Oh, please.’ Jackson scoffed.

‘Ale is safe enough to give to a damn baby.’

Clunking down his cutlery, Edmund leaned forward and stared at his friend intently, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

‘And _that_ , is exactly why Miss Morton is minding your child.’

‘ _Alright alright_ … no booze. Fine.’ He shrugged, visibly unsettled. 

‘But you sure as shit ain’t stopping me enjoying a cigarette after I finish my meal.’

‘No, of course not. I shall join you, in fact.’

After they soon finished eating, Edmund promptly stood up and cleared the table, placing the extra he had cooked on plates and then storing them in the ice box, whilst Jackson moved himself down to rest by the fire.

‘Ey, Reid! Remember when Susan kicked me out, and we had our drinkin’ nights sitting around this very fireplace?’

Smiling at him sympathetically as he approached and sat in the opposite chair, Edmund nodded slightly, unsure of what best to say whenever her name arose.

‘Of course, yes. Though I seem to recall that you did enough drinking for the both of us.’

Jackson then bent forward smirking, a few tears held back in his eyes as he handed Edmund a cigarette and flicked a match. 

‘Thanks, Reid, by the way. For all this.’

Taking a deep drag in, Edmund shook his head and waved his hand through the air dismissively, the rich smoke pluming around the room.

‘Please, stop, Jackson. It is nothing, truly. I simply want to see you well, once more.’

‘Well… thank you, and _uh_ , I hope you realise I didn’t entirely mean what I said earlier, about you being a prick and all those other colourful things I said...’

‘Didn’t _entirely_ mean them?’ Edmund smirked, raising his eyebrow high.

‘ _Well_ … maybe only half of em'.’ Jackson grinned back playfully. 

‘I think that is a fair assessment, on some counts.’

Nodding and chuckling a little, Jackson then turned his gaze to the crackling fire, trying to fight back his sudden urge to let himself cry.

‘Have you been seeing Miss Morton much, then?’

Immediately in response, Edmund looked down into his lap and tensed his shoulders, opening his mouth yet speaking no words. 

‘It’s OK, Reid, honestly. I can tell that you fancy her. Hell, I’ve known you’ve fancied her since we were hiding out in her playhouse, right?’  

‘I, uh… well yes, of course, but-’

‘But you care about her, and I just want you to know you ain’t stepping on my toes, there. She’s her own person, you’re your own person, and I think you two look perfect together.’

Furrowing his brow, Edmund quickly began to look increasingly puzzled.

‘Why the face!’ Jackson laughed.

‘Well, you are not presently intoxicated, so I am trying to determine why you are being quite so kind about this matter?’

‘Can’t a man say some nice words to his friend?’

Jackson then shyly grinned across at him, revealing the little gap in his teeth as he leaned forward to pat his hand on Edmund's knee.

‘In truth, and all bullshit between us aside, I don’t know what I’d do without ya, Reid. You and Susan have both been my rocks these past years.’

Noticing his lip trembling, Edmund hurriedly put his hand down upon Jackson’s. 

‘It will be okay, Captain.’

Jackson then proceeded to burst into tears, shuddering violently as he sobbed, covering his face with his hand in shame.

‘God, what the hell am I doing Reid? I should be able to be a man about this, to raise our boy right. And here I am, poisoning my veins and my life, and my son’s life, with it.’

‘ _No;_ you are doing the best you can given the state of your aching heart, but now it is simply time to try and do things better.’

‘But how d'ya do it? How d'ya live through the loss of your wife, all while you also believed your daughter gone, too?’ He blubbered, shaking his head.

Edmund then tilted his head, thinking to himself about what truthfully got him through those trying years. 

‘I had hope, Captain. Scarcely any, at times. But I still had hope. And, I suppose I’d lost my wife long before she died, so I had already lived much of that grief.’

Jackson looked up, his sad blue eyes overflowing with tears that trailed down his emaciated cheeks, with that boyish innocence still eternally ingrained on his face.

‘I don't know how I will go on…if I can go on, Reid.’ His voice quavered, clutching his friend’s hand tight in fear.  

‘One day at a time, Captain. You beat this illness first, this addiction, and then one day the pain of your loss will hurt a little less. And then a little less, the next, until you look back and realise your son is now a grown man, you – his father, proud by his side – casting your gaze back and recalling the time you _nearly_ gave up, but did not, thankful that you kept on in her honour.’

‘But what if I can’t? What if I can’t beat this. What about my son?’ Jackson shook his head and scrunched his eyes.

‘I’m such a pathetic son of a bitch. But, Jesus, I miss her. I miss her every second of every damn day.’

‘I know you do. But you can, and will, go on. All I can hope to impart, is to warn you not make the same mistake I did.’

‘…Which?’ he asked as he attempted to slow his sobs, fighting for some air and sheepishly looking up at Edmund, eyes red and raw.

‘Putting something else before my family. Alcohol, narcotics, work, whatever it may be: it is not worth more than the people you love. It is _never_ worth that. ’

Straightening himself up in his chair, Jackson then felt himself feeling euphorically calm, his tears coming to a halt as he looked across at his friend, gently releasing his hand from his.

‘You’re right, Reid. You’re right. I can do this.’

‘That is right, Captain. I did, and you shall, also. Tomorrow, we will begin to fix this thing.’

  
  
*******

 

A few hours had passed with Jackson sleeping calming by the fire, the faintest of smiles upon his face as Edmund bent down and gently eased him into his arms, deciding it best to not rouse the man who desperately needed all his will and energy for the long few weeks of withdrawal ahead.

Focusing diligently on taking quiet steps, he then carted Jackson back to the master bedroom where he had been sleeping earlier, easing him down into the soft mattress which squeaked a little as his body sunk in.

After lifting the sheets over the top of him, Edmund then sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment, pausing for a breath and to make sure his friend was well settled, and unperturbed.

‘Good night, Reid…’ Jackson suddenly whispered in his low, raspy voice, his eyes still closed in his slumberous state, though reaching out a hand to pat on Edmund’s arm.

‘Goodnight, Captain.’ He smiled sweetly back at him. 

Slowly leaning down, he then planted a soft kiss on Jackson's forehead, lingering for just a moment before blowing out the bedside candle and leaving the room to let his friend rest and regain his strength. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback always welcome.


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